


don't be afraid of the dark, little one

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempted Abortion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, For the most part, Forced Pregnancy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, LITERALLY, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Post-Canon, Sane Tom Riddle, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Sort Of, This Is STUPID, Time Travel, Tom is a Daddy, but tom is too busy trying to figure out how not to be pregnant, eventually, harry gets sent back in time and in the process inadvertently knocks up the dark lord, harry is better at parenting but tom will learn, harry thinks tom should be giving him more attention, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Harry retreats to the Chamber of Secrets after the Battle of Hogwarts, he inadvertently triggers old magic that hurls him fifty years into the past.There, he finds himself attending school with his most prominent rival. But Riddle is not nearly as interested in him as Harry expects him to be, and he intends to figure out why.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 85
Kudos: 282





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> self-indulgent nonsense, please don't mind me xP
> 
> i know this is stupid, you don't need to tell me so in the comments. i don't need nor want to hear about what i could have done better or what i should have done instead, so keep it to yourself please :) as always, don't like don't read...
> 
> if you're still here, however, i hope you'll enjoy!

It wasn’t a conscious decision that found Harry on the second floor of the castle, standing motionless in the entrance to the girls’ lavatory.

In fact, he couldn’t even remember how he’d got there. Or why. But he could almost enjoy how quiet it was, here above the Great Hall where families and friends still wept for the loss of their loved ones and others celebrated a victory that, to Harry, didn’t feel much like a victory at all.

The castle was in shambles. Every broken piece of brick, every crack and every fissure, every chunk of rubble that Harry had passed by was like a gouge to his heart. This was his home, wasn’t it? Destroyed.

Low mutters reached his ears from down the corridor to his left, and he sought to hide from them. His invisibility cloak had done so much for him over the years, but right now, even it was not enough.

He sought to be alone.

Harry entered the bathroom and came upon the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, still there no matter how he’d wished to forget it. Uncertainty niggled at him, like an uncomfortable itch at the back of his brain, but he it pushed away. Hissed, “Open.”

Nothing happened.

Confusion bubbled within him, and for a moment, he panicked. “Open,” he said again.

And then it occurred to him. Voldemort’s Horcrux. He had been Voldemort’s Horcrux. He’d had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside of him. Of course, he’d _known_ that. It had, after all, been the reason he’d secreted away into the Forbidden Forest to face the Dark Lord head on and fulfil a prophecy he had never wished to be a part of in the first place. (Could that really not have been more than an hour ago? It felt like it had been ages.) But he hadn’t stopped to think on it then, much more concerned with the fact that he was likely walking to his death.

Now, though. Now the very thought made his stomach stir unpleasantly, bile rising in his throat like a burning serpent slithering up his esophagus. It took everything in him to swallow back the contents of his stomach.

He wasn’t a Horcrux anymore. That part of him died when Voldemort cast the Killing Curse at him in the forest. That same part of him that could speak Parseltongue died with it.

The mutterings grew louder, and he screwed his eyes shut, grasping for the sibilant whispers that had once allowed him to unlock the chamber, trying to recall the sound, the way his mouth had formed the word. And then...

“ _Open_.”

The pipe leading down into the chamber was finally revealed to him, and, without further thought, he jumped in, barely remembering to cast a spell that would slow his descent.

He did not plan at all for how he would get out of the chamber. At the moment, it hardly seemed to matter.

A chill shot down his spine as he came face-to-face with the carcass of the basilisk upon setting foot inside the chamber. He almost tripped over his cloak trying to maneuver around it as quickly as possible and wondered once again why he’d thought it would be a good idea to come down here.

And again, the answer came to him—he wanted to be alone, and no one, not even Ron or Hermione, would think to come looking for him down here. The morbid thought that, if something was to happen to him whilst he was down here, it could take weeks—perhaps longer—for anyone to find him was simply not enough to make him turn around.

Harry drew his cloak tighter about him, more for comfort than for its intended practical uses, cast a dim _Lumos,_ and set to wandering around the vast, dark, and miserably chilly cavern with a curiosity he’d never had for it before. Anything to take his mind off the last few hours. The last few months, really, if he was being perfectly honest.

It might be impossible to forget that blinding, flashing green light that spelled his demise, might be unfeasible to erase those cursed words— _Avada Kedavra!_ —from his mind forever, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

Remus, though… Tonks, Fred, Colin. The dozens who had died to save the wizarding world from a dark and dismal fate… he would never forget them.

His wanderings led him around the chamber, and its dark and dinginess were not a very good buffers from his thoughts, though they put up a valiant effort. Although Salazar Slytherin’s tastes did not exactly align with his own—at all, really—the cavern was admittedly grand and impressive. With a high ceiling, towering columns, ornate sconces, and that huge, ostentatious statue of Slytherin himself, it made for the exact sort of place Harry imagined a young Voldemort to plan and plot in.

His secret lair.

The thought might have been amusing, had it been any other day. As it stood, Harry couldn’t rightly imagine himself laughing ever again.

It was with this morose thought that Harry stumbled into a nook he hadn’t noticed before. He steadied himself with one hand on cold stone, and his touch made out grooves and divots in the rock. He brought his wand up and gasped.

Hundreds of runes were inscribed into the curve of stone before him, reaching far up to where even the light of his wand couldn’t reach. He took a hesitant step forward, tracing a few of the runes with the fingers of his left hand, almost as if drawn by an invisible force. His breath came in quicker puffs of air, in and out, until his hand ceased its movement, hovering above two words. They were the only inscriptions he could make out enough to read, although their meaning was lost on him.

For the most fleeting of moments, he wished he’d listened to Hermione when she had encouraged him to take a class on Ancient Runes. Though he rather doubted only one such class would be of much use to him here.

His fingers grew shaky where they rested upon the two words, and he forced his palm flat beneath them. He swallowed, something inside him, deep in his gut, telling him what an incredibly terrible idea it would be to speak them aloud. But something else—perhaps that same invisible force from before, or maybe a latent instinct he was only now recognizing he had—was encouraging him in the other direction.

And though he tried, he couldn’t stop himself. The words came from within him, powerful and irrepressible. They sent shivers racing down his spine, made his knees tremble, caused the light at the tip of his wand to go out.

A bright white light, a thousand times more intense, blinded him in its place before the second word could even completely leave his tongue. And then he vanished, the echoes of those two words the only evidence that he had ever been there at all…

“ _Vita nova._ ”


	2. Chapter Two

The blinding light faded almost as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Harry’s vision spotted and a high-pitched ringing in his ears. When his sight finally cleared, he realized his knees must have given out at some point as he was now kneeling on icy stone.

He lifted his head, almost impervious to the sharp pang in his temples this motion caused. His shoulder was pressed up against a newly familiar wall of runes.

Harry was still in the chamber.

There was only enough time for a split-second of relief to wash through him before a pained moan reached his ears from his right, and he had to bite his tongue to hold in what would have been a very embarrassing squawk of alarm. He almost let out the cry anyway, once he’d turned his head a bit and caught sight of just what—or whom—exactly had made the noise.

Tom Riddle was laid—or, more accurately, _sprawled_ —out mere feet before him in all his young, dark, and handsome glory. Harry recognized those aristocratic features and dark, not-entirely-kempt hair instantly, his mind procuring visions of this very same boy—or a version of him, at the very least—that he remembered meeting in his second year.

Harry swiftly came to the realization that he simply did not have time for the proper freak-out he wanted to have at that moment, nor any time for the dozens of questions streaking through his mind, such as _What the fuck had happened? Why was he in the presence of a young Tom Riddle who, by all rights, should have only existed some three or so decades before Harry had even been born? What had those two words meant?_ And, most lamentably, of course— _Why did these kinds of things always happen to him?_

No answers would be forthcoming, and he had more pressing complications at hand, most notably being that Riddle would likely gain consciousness soon. And Harry had absolutely no desire to be anywhere near him when he did so.

He took a moment to spitefully enjoy the pained grimace on Riddle’s otherwise flawless face, then adjusted his invisibility cloak to cover himself fully and leapt to his feet, his wand clutched in his palm. He cast a silencing spell on himself—just in case—and ran from the alcove back into the chamber that was mostly unchanged from what it had been moments ago, except that now the candles in the sconces had been lit and there was no fallen rubble or destruction of stone.

The silencing charm turned out to be rather prudent, as Harry couldn’t keep in his startled shout of fright at the very big, very _alive_ basilisk that seemed to doze just outside the little nook. Heart in his throat, Harry tiptoed around the massive, sleeping snake, not keen to take any chances even with the silencing spell still in place, and once he was a good few feet away from it he sprinted for the pipe leading out of the chamber.

There he came upon a broomstick—apparently Riddle hadn’t yet learned how to fly without one, thank Merlin—that had haphazardly been thrown to the floor as if someone (Riddle) had been in too much of a hurry to handle it properly. Harry grabbed the broom and mounted it in one swift, practiced motion, wasting no time in zooming back up the pipe. It wasn’t nearly as quick or smooth a ride as his Firebolt, but then, Harry hadn’t expected it to be.

_Because it was an old broom_.

Was it, though?

Or was it just old for his standards? In his… time?

He shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts. He couldn’t think about that right now. He had only one goal in mind at the moment, and that goal was to _get away_.

Once he’d reached the second floor girls’ lavatory, he dismounted and very seriously considered leaving the broom there, or even taking it with him. But, in the end, he figured he didn’t want Riddle suspecting that someone else had been down there with him, no matter how vindictively amusing it would have been to leave him stranded down there, at least for the time it took for Riddle to inevitably come up with another solution to get back up.

So he dropped the broom down the pipe and prayed the noise it made on the way down wouldn’t be too obviously conspicuous. And then he fled.

He hadn’t consciously known his intended destination until he’d reached the same floor that held the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, standing mere metres away from the statue of the one-eyed witch. It never even occurred to him how fortunate it was he hadn’t come across anyone else in his dazed escape from the chamber. It did occur to him, however, how telling it was that he could hear no more sobbing, could see no signs of destruction or mayhem or any evidence at all that a battle had taken place here not so very long ago.

One hesitant step forward, and then another, and then another had him standing directly before the statue. Harry bit his lip, tentative. What if the passage wasn’t even there yet? What if he didn’t fit? What if he couldn’t unveil it, just as had almost been the case for the Chamber of Secrets? (He ignored the mocking voice in his head that grumbled he would have been better off if he hadn’t been able to open it.)

Oh, well. There was nothing for it, and if this didn’t work, there were other ways out of the castle. He tapped the hump with his wand and whispered, “ _Dissendium_.”

The hump on the witch’s statue slid open to reveal a rather small gap that Harry eyed warily. He wasn’t exactly a third year anymore and while he had never been terribly big, he wasn’t sure even he could fit through such a small opening. The humiliation of getting stuck might lose him what little will he had left to live.

Harry rolled his eyes at his own dramatics and climbed in. Certainly, it was a tight fit, but with a little wiggling and squirming he was able to push through, sliding down the short slide into the tunnel he’d taken to get to Honeydukes in his third year. He huffed out a breath, stood up, lit his wand, and began the hour long trek it would take to reach Hogsmeade.

As he trudged along the winding tunnel, his thoughts wouldn’t allow him to fixate on anything but the last half hour. As far as distractions went, wherever—or whenever—the hell he’d found himself now was certainly a sufficient diversion from his earlier morose thoughts. Not that that meant much, all things considered.

He couldn’t believe he was back to dealing with Tom Riddle. Again. Hadn’t he _literally_ just killed him? Well, an older version of him. He’d finally, _finally_ , been rid of the man—monster—that had been a dark, menacing stormcloud, hanging over him since before he’d even been born, for what? All of one, maybe two hours? Not that Harry believed he’d ever truly be _rid_ of him, but at least he’d been _dead_. Gone, with none of his repulsive Horcruxes left that risked bringing him back.

What in Merlin’s name had happened?

_Vita nova, vita nova, vitanova, vitanovavitanova_ —

What had those two words meant? He was almost certain his uttering of those words was the cause of his most recent… _situation_. He snorted. That really was the only word for it, for now anyway, until it turned into an obligatory _problem_ , or perhaps, even more likely—he _was_ Harry Potter, after all— _catastrophe_.

He’d have to get back into the castle at some point. Of course. Obviously. Really, he’d have to get back into that damned chamber, no matter how much even the thought of it repelled him— _why_ had he decided to go there in the first place? What had he been thinking?

God, he was so tired.

It was an idle walk to the cellar of Honeydukes. He quickly entered the central part of the shop to find it bustling with what Harry could only assume were Hogwarts students, though he did not recognize any of the faces he saw there. Just more proof on top of the mounting pile of evidence that he was not where he was supposed to be. He didn’t stay long, ignoring how one chocolate frog in particular seemed to call for him even under his cloak, taking to the edges of the shop so he would be in less risk of accidentally bumping into somebody.

The air outside was neither too warm nor too cold, the skies overcast, and Harry guessed—what with how busy Hogsmeade appeared—that this was probably one of the first Hogsmeade outings of the school year. The glaringly obvious fact that it was no longer May was indeed worrying, Harry acknowledged, but no more so than anything else he’d encountered thus far.

Harry headed in the direction of the forest skirting the edges of the town, longing desperately for some peace and quiet. He needed to think. He needed a _plan_.

And, most especially, he needed to _pay attention_.

Unfortunately for him, Harry, lost deeply to his thoughts, did not notice the solitary form rounding the tree in front of him until it was too late, and unintentionally collided with a firm chest. He gasped and tried to step back, although all he really managed in doing so was to trip on the hem of his cloak and fall down backwards. It really didn’t help that the stupid cloak snagged on a branch, leaving only half of him invisible.

“Bloody hell, watch where you’re go— Oh.”

Harry stared up at the tall form that towered over him, wide-eyed and gaping (and probably hallucinating, too, because why not at this point?). Long, dark hair, brown and gleaming eyes, and high cheekbones, undeniably handsome. The boy staring back at him bore a striking resemblance to Sirius Black… but that wasn’t possible—

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before,” the boy drawled casually, as if Harry wasn’t slumped in an idiotic pile of limbs and cloak in front of him. His eyes glinted with the same sort of mischief Harry only ever saw from the twins or his godfather. He gulped. “My name is Alphard. Alphard Black. And who might you be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please, please comment and let me know what you thought! i promise it is the only way to motivate me into writing more <3


	3. Chapter Three

Harry gaped at the boy, finding it rather difficult to parse the differences between his appearance and Sirius’. He was younger, yes. Less weary and worn than Harry had ever seen Sirius. But his eyes were the same shape, his hair the same color, and Harry’s chest ached somewhere in the region of his heart.

“I—”

He faltered, unsure of what to say. This was Alphard Black. Harry was almost positive he was the same Alphard Black that Sirius had briefly mentioned left him some gold and was subsequently struck off the tapestry for it. This was Sirius’ _uncle_ , a man who had long been dead in his own time.

What could he say to him?

Alphard’s head tilted minutely to the side as he appraised Harry. His brown eyes—so painfully familiar—scrutinized every part of him that Harry probably didn’t want him to see, lingering on his Invisibility Cloak, his forehead, and—strangely—his chest.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” Alphard asked after a long moment where they stared at each other, Harry uncomfortable and Alphard completely unreadable.

Harry swallowed. “What?”

Alphard raised a calculating eyebrow. “You have an Invisibility Cloak.” He gestured to said cloak with his chin. “It’s unlike any other I’ve seen, though. My grandfather owns one, you know, and he let me try it once. Wasn’t nearly as effective—if you stood directly in the sun, the light would bounce right off it. Even those without the gift of observation would see it.” Alphard leant down to get a closer look. “But if you hadn’t so obviously stumbled into me, I wouldn’t have noticed a thing.”  
  


Harry was unsure whether to be offended or not. He opened his mouth to protest—what, he wasn’t entirely sure—when Alphard reached out a hand to touch the cloak. Harry jerked back in surprise, but the abrupt motion did nothing to dissuade him. Alphard’s eyes widened infinitesimally—the only fault in his otherwise flawlessly unperturbed guise. His fingers slid over the fluid-like, silky material. Harry could only imagine that the one he’d tried before felt nothing like Harry’s own cloak, cool to the touch, like liquid silver running over his skin.

Alphard suddenly pulled away, gracefully standing up straight once more. “Whilst your cloak is most… _fascinating_ , I admit I am rather more interested in _that_.” To Harry’s surprise, Alphard lowered his eyes to stare pointedly at his chest.

He followed Alphard’s line of sight, noticing for the first time that at some point during the last twenty-four hours, the hem of his shirt had torn, rendering most of the left side of his chest bare. But that wasn’t what caught his attention.

Mere centimeters below his left collarbone, shiny green ink had been impressed on his skin in the shape of a crest. Inside the crest was a tiny emerald serpent, occasionally wriggling in place or making loops around the edge before returning to its center. Harry blinked in shock.

“ _That_ is the Mark of Slytherin,” Alphard said knowledgeably. “It would be odd—and frankly archaic—enough for a student of his House to wear such an emblem, but _you_ are not a Slytherin, are you? In fact, you don’t even attend Hogwarts. I would know, seeing as I myself am a student there and I have never seen you before.” He paused for what Harry assumed was intended to be a dramatic effect. “You cannot be so much older that I don’t recall you from one of the graduated upper years, either.” Alphard casually stuffed his hands into his robe pockets, leaning back on his heels and smugly peering down at Harry as if he’d just made some grand discovery. “As I said… Curious.”

And Harry had to agree. It _was_ curious, although in his opinion that was a rather mild term for it. Unsettling, alarming, and bewildering all sounded decidedly more accurate.

“Is it?” Harry said. He didn’t really mean to be contrary, but he honestly didn’t know how else to reply to that.

Alphard frowned momentarily, but his pretense of indifference returned only a few seconds later. “Who are you?”

Harry worried his bottom lip, weighing his possible responses. Should he be honest? Or would he be creating some sort of time paradox by giving his true identity? Had he _already_ created such a paradox, just by having this conversation? Merlin, Harry wasn’t cut out for this. With a sudden, sharp pang of yearning, Harry wished his friends were here with him. Particularly Hermione. She would know what to do.

He allowed himself one single moment of wondering about Ron and Hermione. Had they realized he was gone, yet? Were they looking for him? But Alphard was still staring at him expectantly when he pulled himself out of his reverie, and it was clear he wouldn’t go away until he had an answer.

Overwhelmed and exhausted, Harry blurted the only thing he could think of. “I’m Harry.”

Alphard did not even blink. “Harry…?”

“Just Harry.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them as Alphard determined what to make of that response. Finally, he said, “And where are you from, just Harry?”

Harry’s lips pursed, mind blanking.

Alphard let out a put-upon sigh. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to go to the Headmaster with the report of a strange man creeping about Hogsmeade in an Invisibility Cloak during a _school outing_. You know, when a bunch of children are running about generally unattended.”

Harry gawked at the implications. “ _Wha_ — You— I— ” He hissed out an infuriated breath. “I wasn’t _creeping about_.”

“It certainly seemed like it to me,” Alphard said, with what Harry thought was a rather inappropriate amount of glee. “I wonder what Dippet will say.”

Harry glowered. Had Sirius been this irritating when he’d been a teenager? Surely not.

But the more he thought about it, the less convinced he was. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. That really wasn’t important right now.

Harry floundered. He couldn’t tell the truth. Could he? But he was a terrible liar. And he couldn’t explain away the damned tattoo, either, since he didn’t even understand it himself. “I don’t— I can’t tell you.”

The look Alphard gave him made him wince. “Why not?”

“I just can’t. I need—” _More time. More information. A suitable lie. Some_ fucking _sleep._

Alphard pushed on. “What’s with the Mark?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered honestly.

Alphard huffed out a breath and abruptly switched tracks. “Where are you staying?”

“What?”

“ _Staying_ ,” Alphard said again, stressing the word this time, his patience clearly thinning. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

“Oh. Er.” Harry honestly hadn’t even considered that. His mind had been reeling from the moment he’d got here and saw bloody _Tom Riddle_ , alive if unconscious. Simple practicalities like _sleeping arrangements_ hadn’t even ranked on his to-do list, which mostly consisted of _Get the fuck away from baby Voldemort_. He’d probably just attempt to transfigure something into a tent, or simply tread further into the forest and sleep under the canopy of stars. It wouldn’t be anything _new_ , and he likely wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anyway.

“How old are you? Are you still in school?” Alphard continued his barrage of questions. He was _searching_ , Harry knew that, trying to pull information from him any way he could think of. But Harry was drained, physically and emotionally, and he’d simply _had it_ with human interaction for the day. For a lifetime, really. Hadn’t this all started because he’d wanted to be _alone_?

“Look,” Harry snapped, finally pulling himself together and forcing himself clumsily to his feet, feeling gratified when Alphard took a single, hasty step back. “I know this probably isn’t making any sense to you, but truthfully, I don’t care. I don’t even _know_ you. Your _curiosity_ means nothing to me right now.” He took a breath. “I have just lived the _shittiest_ day of my entire life, and it has _somehow_ , beyond all reason or rationality, gotten even _worse_ within the last hour and a half. I am _tired_ , I am _confused,_ and, more than anything, I want to be left _alone_. So you can tell the Headmaster whatever you want, if it so pleases you, but I will not be answering any more of your questions today. Goodbye.”

Harry made to step around him, but Alphard grabbed his arm before he could take more than a few steps. This was rather a bold move, considering that Harry was ready to start throwing hexes, consequences be damned.

Alphard quickly let go at Harry’s murderous glare, his hands going up in a display of surrender. “All right, all right. I… apologize. I can see you are clearly distressed.” He rushed on before Harry could protest. “Perhaps I could… be of some assistance.”

“How do you reckon that?” Harry demanded mockingly.

“I am a Black, Harry. As such, there is a lot I can do for you.” Alphard paused to smirk, the expression more teasing than taunting. “I will, of course, require something in return.”

It was all Harry could do not to groan out loud. Alphard wanted to bargain. Of course he did, he was a Slytherin for Merlin’s sake! He wasn’t going to do something nice just for the sake of it.

Why did Harry have a feeling he was going to regret this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want more chapters, please comment. it's really the only way i'll stay motivated, and i'd appreciate it very much. thank you <3


	4. Chapter Four

Vicious spikes of pain driving through his brain were certainly the worst form of alarm clocks, in Tom’s educated opinion. He was no stranger to pain, of course, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. If he was being honest, however—and he generally tried not to be—he would take triple the intensity of the torment in his head if it meant that infernal ringing in his ears would _shut up_.

_What the bloody hell had happened?_

Opening his eyes had never been such a challenge, and he almost had to wonder if some brainless idiot with a death wish had thought to glue them shut. But no.

His eyes—when they finally determined to blink open—were met with unnerving darkness. It took a moment for them to adjust, but when they did, he was met with a great stone wall covered in ancient runes rising above him.

Oh. Right.

The next breath he let out rattled in his lungs, and he almost heaved. He swallowed desperately, painfully, fixated on keeping down his breakfast. He would absolutely _not_ be sick.

It was an immense effort to sit up, but Tom managed it admirably. He pushed himself back and leant against the wall, allowing himself a single moment to breathe. Why was he huffing like he’d just run a circle around the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds?

He thought back to what he’d been doing before he’d unceremoniously been knocked unconscious and winced. His eyes trailed upwards before locking on the two words he hadn’t meant to utter aloud.

_Vita nova._

He knew enough of Latin to know that translated to ‘New life.’ Beyond that, though, he could only guess at its meaning.

Had he somehow, accidentally, activated some sort of ritualistic magic? Scanning the many runes surrounding the inscribed incantation led him to believe so. But what did it do?

_Change. Rebirth. Revival. Resurrection._

All of these could be associated with such a phrase. It could mean any number of things. Tom thought about it for a moment more before it was clear that the answers were not about to present themselves to him on a platter and that he’d have to conduct further research. This was a mite bothersome but far from something he’d be unwilling to do. Research was just another of his many talents, after all.

He stood up, clutching for a moment at his head which still ached fiercely and sent a wave of dizziness to unbalance him. Had he hit it on something?

Tom leaned up against the stone wall and slid his hand around to the back of his head, pressing gently against his scalp. His fingers met a tender spot that made him immediately drop his hand. But when he looked, no blood coated his fingers, so it was likely only a bruise.

An _Episkey_ would probably be enough to take care of it. He called his wand—which had at some point fallen to the floor—to him and pointed it at the back of his head, softly muttering the healing charm. He probably could have cast it silently, as it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before, but he didn’t want to risk it with the dizziness still making his head spin. The tender spot flared with sudden heat, but sweet relief from the pain soon followed.

He tucked his wand into the holster wrapped snugly around his forearm and left the small alcove. Inside the Chamber, the basilisk slept on, its gleaming scales heaving with every intake of breath. He didn’t care to disturb it at present, so he simply slipped past it and strode back towards the entrance.

The broomstick lied in wait in front of the tunnel that led up and out, and he mounted it without any fuss, zooming up the pipe. Inside the bathroom he shrunk the broom down and tucked it inside his robe pocket and then cast a spell at the door that would reveal if anyone was walking past in the hallway outside. As soon as he was certain that the coast was clear, he swept out of the room and made a sharp right, striding down the corridor. He’d meant to only make a quick stop into the Chamber whilst the majority of the school’s occupants were down in Hogsmeade before he went himself, as minding the younger students was one of his duties as Head Boy.

But to his dismay, people were already gathering outside the Great Hall when he finally reached the Entrance Hall. A quick _Tempus_ told him that he had been unconscious inside the Chamber for far longer than he’d first estimated, and it was already time for dinner.

“We missed you in Hogsmeade, Tom,” said a feminine voice near his ear. It took everything in him not to jump away—not because he was skittish, but because he was admittedly cautious of being so near a female after the activation of that unknown spell. He hadn’t wanted to think of it before, but the theory must have subconsciously burrowed its way into his thoughts.

_New life._

What was a more obvious meaning than the conception of a child?

It was ridiculous, of course. He had never heard of a way to conceive without physical intercourse, but he was much too aware to believe he knew all there was to know of magic’s abilities. And so it was only prudent to be wary.

He turned and offered a smile that felt more forced than usual. “I was… preoccupied.”

Meara Nottingworth was a seventh-year pureblood from Ravenclaw who had taken an unfortunate fancy to him some years ago. He generally took care to encourage favorable opinions of himself in others, but at the moment, her familiarity with him was galling.

Meara smiled in understanding. Tom wanted to roll his eyes. “Well, I was hoping—”

He really hadn’t any interest in whatever she was ‘hoping.’ “Pardon me, Meara,” he cut in, “but I’ve a pressing concern that I need to attend to. Perhaps we can chat another time?”

With another winning grin that sat easier on his lips than the last, Tom spun back around, not particularly caring how Meara would react to his dismissal.

Unfortunately, it seemed that turning around meant exchanging one annoyance for another. One that almost ran straight into him, in fact.

Alphard, luckily, was able to halt before he could make contact with his person. He took one look at Tom and stiffened, his expression warping into one of indifference. Although he tried to hide it, Tom could see clearly the distaste in his eyes.

Inside, Tom was smirking, but he did not allow his delight to show on his face. “Alphard,” he said impassively.

“Tom.”

Tom was opening his mouth to question him when movement behind Alphard caught his eye. When he looked, his eyes met the green ones of a boy he’d never met before. He paused. “Who is this?”

“He’s my cousin,” Alphard replied promptly, correctly assuming who the question had been aimed at. “Harry Horvat.”

Tom’s gaze flickered back to Alphard. “Horvat?”

Alphard swallowed. “He’s from my mother’s side of the family.”

A lie. Alphard was lying about Harry being from his mother’s side, but was he lying about him being related? Why? And what was he doing here?

Tom held out a hand towards ‘Harry.’ Harry hesitated, staring down at it with wide eyes, a grim look on his face. He appeared pallid, dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes. His hair was a disaster of curls atop his head, nothing like he would imagine a relative to the Blacks would have inherited. With visible reluctance, Harry took his hand.

“Tom Riddle,” he introduced himself, his curiosity piqued. “A pleasure to meet you.”


	5. Chapter Five

Harry snatched his hand from Riddle’s the moment Riddle loosened his grip, perturbed by the strange spark he’d felt upon contact, zipping like electricity up his arm. Had Riddle felt it, too?

Riddle’s eyes narrowed as he stared at him, the obvious—and uncomfortable—scrutinization making Harry itch to pull his wand. But he’d gotten better at ignoring his impulses—especially the ones that gave him fantastically terrible ideas—and allowed himself to be studied.

It was only fair he study in return. Riddle held himself like his spine was made of solid steel. He was tall, Harry would give him that, but Voldemort had been taller. The confident set of his shoulders, though, the way arrogance seemed to leak from his very pores was all very familiar. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind who this boy would grow up to become.

_If I let him._

The thought took him by surprise. He had not had the chance to think about what it meant that he was here, beyond the fact that it was a serious inconvenience and the vague notion that he had to find some way to go back—forward? Harry’s head throbbed—But now that he really thought about it, an obvious opportunity arose.

He could stop Riddle. He could somehow put a halt to all his plans before they took effect. Before he tried to take over the wizarding world all over again.

He could _kill him._

Harry shied away from that thought immediately, his heart suddenly racing while in his mind a memory played of the Killing Curse rebounding and Voldemort dropping. Gone forever. (Or at least for the short time it took for Harry to find himself in trouble again.)

Killing Riddle again would have to be a last resort. He didn’t even know for sure yet that he wouldn’t miraculously wake up tomorrow back in his own time—although he knew that was extremely unlikely.

Harry watched as Riddle gave him one last onceover before turning back to Alphard, trying to get a read on him. But if there was anything Riddle was good at, it was keeping his true thoughts hidden.

“I didn’t know we gave tours to outsiders,” Riddle said, his tone pleasant. But Harry wasn’t fooled, and neither, it seemed, was Alphard.

“I really wouldn’t know,” Alphard said, tone matching Riddle’s in its false geniality. “Harry attends Hogwarts now. He’ll spend his seventh year studying with us. I was actually just going to show him to the Great Hall for dinner. You’ll excuse us, won’t you?”

Riddle’s eyes flashed as Alphard pushed past him, pulling Harry along behind him towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry wanted to grin, amused at the clear tension between the two boys. Apparently Dumbledore was not the only one Riddle had not managed to charm during his school days.

Harry let himself be led into the Hall, marvelling at how it mirrored the one in his own time almost exactly. It set Harry a little more at ease to know some things didn’t change. Well, at least until he realized he was being dragged to the Slytherin table, not Gryffindor. He grimaced.

Right. He was a Slytherin now.

Out in the forest beyond Hogsmeade, Alphard had offered Harry to become Harry Horvat. The Horvats were technically a pureblood family who originated in Croatia and had emigrated to other European countries, most of whom settled in Britain. Over time, the family name apparently lost its standing among other British purebloods, along with its fortune and blood purity.

Harry honestly hadn’t cared to listen to the particulars. He just knew he was supposed to be playing the part of Alphard’s cousin on his mother’s side, someone who the Blacks generally elected to ignore existed but would be inclined to assist if it meant they could get something out of it in turn. The perfect scenario, really, since that was more or less exactly what was happening.

_“I want to know everything there is to know about you, Just Harry_ ,” Alphard had said. In exchange, he would tell the Headmaster some sob story about his cousin needing a place to continue his education and earn his NEWTs.

Harry had been nervous sitting inside what he’d always known to be Dumbledore’s office, but actually belonged to Headmaster Dippet in this time. It was so much tidier than when it had been (would be?) Dumbledore’s—there were so many less odd trinkets and interesting artifacts lying about. There was no bowl that supplied endless lemon drops. There was no Fawkes.

Dippet had been very sympathetic to Harry’s plight and had agreed to let him study in Hogwarts for his last year. Alphard hadn’t been kidding about the sway a name like Black held. Harry was sure few others would have had the same outcome.

One stipulation had been, of course, that he’d be sorted into Slytherin with Alphard. “ _How will we get to know each other if we’re always in different dormitories?_ ” Alphard had asked.

Harry could hardly argue. This was really the best he could’ve done for himself. He now had a way in and out of Hogwarts, he had access to the Chamber, and, as a bonus—or whatever could subjectively be counted as a bonus—he could also keep an eye on Riddle.

Dippet had, unfortunately, agreed to let Harry be in Slytherin so that the two ostensible cousins could stay together. He hadn’t even bothered to bring out the stupid hat (although Harry wasn’t sure how much it would’ve helped him. He had, after all, almost been sorted into Slytherin the first time.)

The Great Hall was bustling with excitable students, most of whom seemed yet to come off the high of a fun day spent at Hogsmeade. The Slytherin table was slightly more subdued than the rest, but that had been the case during his own time as well, so Harry didn’t think much of it. He figured that was just how most Slytherins were.

He took the seat beside Alphard near the end of the table closest to the staff table. Plenty of curious looks were sent his way, all of which went ignored. His presence would be explained soon enough, either by Alphard, Riddle, or the Headmaster himself.

And sure enough, Dippet entered the Great Hall a few minutes later, just as food started appearing on the tables. He ambled to his chair where he did not immediately sit. Instead, he lifted a glass in one hand and a fork in the other, tapping the glass with the fork a few times so a ringing sound chimed about the hall.

This got the students’ attention.

“Yes, hello everyone,” he began, clearing his throat. “I do hope that you had a good time in Hogsmeade, for all of those who went. Please recall that only those with permission slips may go into Hogsmeade—” he stared pointedly in the direction of the Gryffindor table—“and should you be caught out and about without this specified consent, you will be subjected to weekend detention.”

Animated groans came from the Gryffindor side of the hall. Harry smiled at their antics, wishing he could be sitting over there instead.

Dippet continued when the noise died down. “Now, I’ve only one more announcement before you may begin eating. We have a new student joining our Slytherin ranks. Mr Horvat, if you’d please stand.”

Harry’s face flushed immediately, but at Alphard’s incessant nudging, he clumsily stood up. The hundreds of pairs of eyes on him were nothing new, but they discomfited him nonetheless.

“Harry Horvat will spend the rest of his seventh year here at Hogwarts. I trust you’ll all help him adjust to castle life.” Dippet set down the fork, but raised the glass high in the air. “Now, let us feast!”

Cheers went up around the hall as Harry sat back down again. Everyone but the Slytherins turned their attention away from Harry, which would have made him feel better if not for the scrutiny he was still suffering from those surrounding him.

One burning gaze in particular grabbed his attention, and as Riddle stared at him from his place a bit farther down the table, Harry could have sworn he saw a gleam of red in those dark grey eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone actually liked what they just read, and is intrigued enough to know more, i would be most delighted if you let me know! as it stands, i'm not sure if i'll continue this as i know it might not be many people's cup of tea.
> 
> anyway, hit me up on [tumblr](https://padraigendragon.tumblr.com/)! i want all your questions and excited ramblings, please <3


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